


Cold Pizza

by Eberesche



Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, Gwen Cooper & Ianto Jones Friendship, Gwen-centric, Mentioned Jack Harkness, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29152707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eberesche/pseuds/Eberesche
Summary: With Jack missing and the Rift running the team ragged, Gwen's plans for a single night in are foiled.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams
Comments: 34
Kudos: 16





	1. Gwen and Rhys’ Totally Uninterrupted Night In

“You alright, love?” asked Rhys, handing her a cuppa as he set his down on the coffee table.

She blinked. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“It’s just, you’ve seemed _off_ recently,” – he paused to sit next to her, dropping heavily onto the sofa cushions – “ever since you got that promotion. Don’t get me wrong; it’s great, but... they’re not overworking you, are they?”

“Really, I’m fine,” she said, feigning a smile. This was the longest she’d spent with him in days, and she was all too aware of it. _“_ Can we just enjoy this? Please? Let’s have a nice evening in, no talk of work.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. You see, we got that lorry today. New model. Great fuel efficiency, pride of the Harwood’s fleet-”

Gwen rolled her eyes, even as the affectionate smile spread across her face. She’d _really_ missed this – missed _him_ , but not even Jack’s advice to _just go home_ had ever been able to keep her there long. There was always _something_. Whether it was a meteor, a Weevil, or a garden gnome that’d gotten a bit bitey, one phone call was all it took for her to drop whatever she was doing and rush into work. 

It’d increased tenfold since Jack had left, so much so that she’d only ended up sharing a meal with Rhys a handful of times since the New Year. As it turns out, ripping the fabric of time and space wide open can make an already weak point in said time and space _particularly_ unstable. Who would’ve guessed? 

“We’re going places, Gwennie,” said Rhys, still smiling like an idiot. “We’ll be delivering straight to the First Minister in no time, you’ll see.” 

As if on cue, her phone rang. Setting her mug down next to Rhys’, Gwen flipped her Nokia open with just a _little_ too much aggression. Restraining the urge to throw the offending device across the room, she answered. “Ianto, what’s up?”

“Gwen, we’ve had what sounds like a Hoix sighting just off Bute Street,” replied his tinny voice. “I’m sending the coordinates to your PDA.”

She offered Rhys an apologetic smile as she stood, crossing the room to lean on the breakfast bar.

“I thought Owen was on call tonight?” she said, lowering her voice.

“Yeah, he is, and he’s just nicked all of Myfanwy’s pork chops,” – he paused, and she could practically see him roll his eyes at the inevitable two-finger salute he was receiving from the medic –

“and armed himself with enough sedatives to kill a mammoth. It’s looking pretty all hands on deck.”

She sighed, drumming the fingers of her free hand on the countertop. “D’you think you can manage without me?”

“Um... potentially? Tosh, how’re things looking?”

“Like we should already be halfway there!” came the technician’s muffled reply. 

Gwen _really_ wanted to toss her phone across the room. “I’ll get in my car and meet you there?”

“That would be-”

“Give me the phone, Ianto,” cut in Owen, audibly wrestling said device from the archivist’s hands. For as much as Gwen respected the pair of them, they didn’t half act like bickering siblings sometimes. “What’s the holdup?”

“Rhys is home with me,” she half-whispered, “for the first time since Monday, but if you need me-”

“Stay with him. We’ll call you if it gets bad.” 

Forcing back the thought that _it getting bad_ was sounding awfully like a given, Gwen finally stopped drumming on the marble. “Alright, but promise me you _will_ call?”

“Promise,” replied Ianto, having apparently reacquired his mobile. 

She sat back down on the sofa with a soft thud, settling shoulder-to-shoulder with Rhys. “Everything okay?” he asked, brows knitted in concern.

“Yeah,” she lied.

He glanced down at the mug in his hands, now half-empty. “Oh, tea’s drinkable, by the way.”

She reached for her own mug, bumping hands with him as he reached for the DVD remote next to it. She giggled.

“I’ll put dinner on halfway through?” Rhys suggested, gesturing towards the TV with the remote.

She nodded. “What’re we having?”

“Guess,” he said, smiling gently.

“Pizza?”

“Ding ding ding!” he cried, punching the air. “Ten points to Cooper!”

Gwen grinned, leaning her head on his shoulder as they settled down for the evening. 

The timer for the pizza had just gone off when her phone rang again. This time she was quicker on the draw, already moving to put her boots on as she raised it to her ear. “Ianto? Is everything-”

“Gwen, we need you here _now_.” He sounded winded, as though he’d been running or he was hurt. She pushed the thought from her mind. “There’s three of them, and Owen can’t get close enough to knock them out.”

“ _Shit_ ,” she hissed. “Right, I’m on my way. Stop if you think you’re gonna get hurt. I’ll be there in ten.” 

She hung up just in time to see Rhys standing up from in front of the oven, pizza in hand. “Gwen?”

She winced at his tone, one of resignation and just a hint of sadness. “I’m so sorry, love. They need me at work.”

“But dinner’s-”

“I know, and I’m sorry. Leave the other half in the fridge for me?” she offered, voice catching a little. 

He was across the flat and hugging her before she knew it. “Go on. I’ll still be here when you get back,” - he jerked his head towards the paused film, grinning with even more charm than Harrison Ford on the screen - “as will that ugly bastard.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” she told him, opening the door before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too!” he called after her as she headed down the corridor.


	2. Communication Is Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team face down the Hoix, and everything goes completely according to plan. Not.

The deserted side street Ianto’s coordinates had directed her to looked like a bomb had hit it. Knowing Torchwood, Gwen wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d informed her that it _had_. No such luck. The whole street was a mess of capsized wheelie bins and litter blowing free in the frigid night time air. It was eerie as hell. Worse still, the comms were dead silent, and there was no sign of anyone (or any Hoix). 

Gwen tapped her earpiece “Ianto? Owen?” She paused, giving the pair a moment to respond. “Tosh?” 

“ _Gwen, will you shut up_?” hissed Owen. He sounded frantic. She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of the team amid the carnage.

“Owen, what’s going on?” she whispered. No response. 

Feeling her phone buzz briefly and thanking God she’d had the sense to silence it, Gwen fished her gun from her jacket pocket and started to walk down the street, looking about her as she went. 

She got about twenty paces before she froze, feeling something brush against her leg. If it was one of the Hoix, she was as good as dead. In fact, she’d be dead already. At that realisation, her dread dissipated marginally, and she looked down. Gwen heaved a sigh of relief – it was just a regular plastic bag. What was odd, however, was the pork chop lying on the tarmac next to it, just recognisable in the sodium glow of the streetlamps. Stranger still was the trail of other pork chops that led directly towards it. Towards her. 

It was just as she clocked what the hell was going on that she was yanked sideways by her arm, yelping in surprise as she was half dragged into an alleyway. A swift hand clasped over her mouth halted any further protest. _Found them,_ she thought. The hand was gone almost as soon as it was there. “Hi,” whispered Ianto. He’d been the one to grab her, she realised. Probably for the best that it hadn’t been Owen, given that he’d been the one handling the meat. She hoped. Just behind where Ianto was crouched, Tosh and Owen were huddled. All three of them were armed with their PDAs and what looked to be syringes of sedative. 

“I take it we have a plan, then?” she asked, wishing it were rhetorical. 

“Yep,” replied Owen. 

“Are you… gonna tell me what it is?” 

“Nah,” he said, doing that eyebrow raise that only ever made her want to deck him. “Suspense is funnier.” 

Ianto shot the medic a warning glare. “Lead them here, wait ‘till they’re close enough, then,” – he nodded to his syringe – “jab ‘em.” 

“I _did_ text you,” muttered Tosh, fiddling with her PDA. 

“Do you honestly think I’m gonna be whipping my mobile out first thing when I show up to the set of bloody _28 Days Later_ , Tosh?” Gwen snapped, wincing as her voice echoed in the passageway. 

Owen snorted “Well...” 

“Shut up, Owen,” hissed his teammates. 

“Anyway, what happened to ‘all hands on deck’?” She realised a little too late that she wasn’t exactly concealing her frustration.“Looks like you lot have it covered.” 

“There was a Weevil at one point...” said Tosh, eyes glazing over. 

“ _And?_ ” 

“It _distracted_ them long enough for us to set this up,” stated Owen. “Let’s leave it at that.”

“Look alive, people,” said Ianto, eyes fixed on his PDA. “Looks like our mates are back.” 

Owen stood abruptly “On my mark, we jump the buggers,” He paused, momentarily peeking out of the alleyway. “Any objections?” 

“Not yet,” deadpanned Ianto. 

It felt like an eternity before Owen gave the signal. They charged out of the alleyway, syringes in hand as they ran at the trio of Hoix, while Gwen hung back with her gun at the ready. For a split second, it _really_ seemed like it was gonna work. And then it all went to shit. Naturally. 

It’d been a simple enough plan, but the very fact that they were Torchwood often led those astray. That, or the fact that they hadn’t bothered discussing any specifics other than the abstract grab ‘n’ jab. Owen and Ianto going for the same Hoix was probably what ultimately fucked it. 

Within a moment, Owen had been knocked to the ground by the un-sedated one, just as its friend succumbed to the double dose. Ianto’s gun was out of his pocket almost instantly and then smacked clear of his hand just as fast when the Hoix rounded on him. Gwen thought for a second it would attack him, but instead, it turned back to Owen, teeth bared. All the while, Tosh was still fumbling for her gun. As far as Gwen was concerned, _fucking spectacular_ was about the only phrase that did the situation any justice. She raised her pistol and took aim. 

Just as she was thumbing the safety, Ianto did the unthinkable. He flung himself at the Hoix, right as it lunged for Owen. She hesitated for a second, unsure of where to aim as archivist and alien went down in a flailing mess of limbs and unidentifiable Hoix bits. That second was all it took for the Hoix to come out on top. Ianto cried out as the creature sunk its teeth into his leg. 

The next thing Gwen knew, she’d shot the thing dead. Ianto barely choked back a yelp as the Hoix collapsed on top of him, jostling his leg as it seeped red onto the tarmac. 

“Suppose that’s… one way of doing things,” he gasped. Gwen was just glad he was alive. 

Owen swung to his feet. “Tosh. First aid kit from the SUV. _Now!_ Gwen, I’m gonna need a tourniquet.” 

Tosh set off in a run as Owen moved to Ianto’s side, assessing his leg. Gwen heaved the Hoix from on top of the archivist, who gasped as his leg was jolted yet again. Gwen winced. She was no doctor, but she’d seen enough stabbing victims to know that Ianto had been lucky, even if he was bleeding profusely.

_Tourniquet. Focus on the job, Cooper._

Gwen pointed at Ianto’s tie. His eyes widened for just a split second before he seemed to weigh the options and decide that not bleeding to death was probably a better choice than dying in a squeaky clean tie. He lifted his head as she slipped the knot and passed it to Owen, who set to work securing it round the archivist’s thigh. 

She removed her jacket, placing it under Ianto’s head and earning a grateful – if a little forced – smile for her efforts. He should’ve been close to tears, really, but he was remarkably calm for someone bleeding onto a freezing pavement after throwing themselves at a _very_ carnivorous alien. Gwen didn’t fancy touching any of those psychoanalytic gems with a ten foot barge pole. 

“I wasn’t sure what kit you meant,” Tosh wheezed, apparently carrying half the contents of the car boot, “so I brought all of them.” 

Owen looked up for a moment with a curt smile. “Thanks, Tosh.” he said, _just_ managing to mask his frustration. “Gwen. Eye on the ball. I’m gonna need gloves, scissors, antiseptic, and a temp dressing. Tosh, you start loading these bastards into the SUV before anyone else gets chomped.” 

Tosh regarded one of the incapacitated Hoix for a moment. “Owen, I can’t lift-” 

He scoffed. “Course you can, just put your back into it.” 

“ _Owen_ ,” said Gwen. 

“ _What_?” he shot back, mimicking her tone. 

Gwen broke his gaze. Jack’s absence was hitting the medic hard, but now was _not_ the time to indulge him in a little cathartic bickering. “Tosh, you swap with me.” she said, glancing up at the technician. “Owen, play nice.” 

It was another quarter of an hour of wrestling the Hoix into the SUV before they could get moving. Ianto wasn’t bleeding out any more, which was good, but Gwen still drove fast all the same. That split second before she’d pulled the trigger had been one of pure panic, and she wasn’t going to be able to decompress until she knew he was completely okay.

Truthfully, Gwen wasn’t going to be able to relax until she knew it’d never happen again. Granted, the plan had been fundamentally solid on Owen’s part, but it’d fallen apart because it’d lacked any proper rehearsal or coordination. That just wasn’t going to cut it any more. Careless improvisation had worked with Jack, but Jack was gone. Jack wasn’t necessarily coming back. They needed to get themselves in order, and _fast._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More soon. In the mean time, enjoy your day! <3


	3. And Now, the Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen has a much-needed conversation, and receives some news.

By the time they’d reached the Hub, there was no point going home. Gwen had tried ringing Rhys as soon as she was satisfied that Ianto was firmly in Owen’s more than capable hands, but she’d just been treated to his voicemail on a maddening loop as she paced the atrium catwalk. She finally gave up on actually speaking to him and elected to just leave a message. She owed him that at the very least. 

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get back last night. They  _ are  _ keeping me busy!” he sighed, stopping to rest her elbows on the railing. “I promise I’ll be home as soon as possible. Love you!” 

Replacing her phone in her pocket, she looked out across the steel railing and into the atrium. Tosh was already back at her desk, hunched over her keyboard like her life depended on it. Gwen smiled fondly at that, though the look didn’t quite reach her eyes. Tosh had seemed at first like she was handling the situation the best out of all of them, but a few conversations had quickly corrected Gwen on that front. Jack was as much a surrogate father to Tosh as he was her boss. While she had her own quiet, borderline workaholic coping methods (something she definitely had in common with Ianto), Tosh was definitely feeling the loss more than most. 

Shaking her head, Gwen wrenched her gaze over to the autopsy bay, where Owen had just finished Ianto’s shots and stitches and had moved on to prepping the Hoix cadaver. Like Tosh, he was getting on with things, but while he was still his usual abrasive self, there was a new edge to it that wasn’t sitting right with her. Still, for as much as she cared about the man, she knew better than to prod. After all,  _ he’d _ been the one to call off their arrangement. Or was it an affair? Did it count as an affair if you weren’t married? She tried not to think too much about the semantics. She would’ve preferred not to think about it at all, but she’d lost that luxury the second she’d fallen into Owen’s bed.

The broken rhythm of clanging footsteps drew her out of her thoughts, and she turned just as Ianto emerged at the top of the spiral staircase. He had her mug in the hand that wasn’t clasping the banister, and he was noticeably limping. She  _ really  _ should’ve sent him home. 

“Brooding?” he asked. They both knew it was rhetorical. “You know, it’s not actually a requirement.” 

She exhaled, tapping her hands on the railing. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

He laughed bitterly, holding out her mug as he did. “You me both.” 

She accepted the mug with a grateful half-smile “Ianto,” – she paused to inhale the steam from the cup, which had become somewhat of a ritual to them all – “how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” He glanced down at his thigh. “I’ll heal.” 

“You know what I mean,” she said, trying to meet his eyes. 

He looked down over the railing, the concrete floor below now apparently far more interesting than eye contact “Ah.  _ That. _ ” 

“I won’t pry, it’s just- I know what he meant to the other two, and I know that  _ they’re  _ not exactly addressing things.” She moved her free hand to cover one of his, now firmly gripping the railing, and was surprised to find that he didn’t stiffen at the contact. ”You’re all that dialled up to a hundred.” 

“Gwen, I’m okay.” 

“Look, I’m not gonna  _ order  _ you talk about your feelings, but I want you to know that I’m always here if you need to. I don’t ever want you to feel as if you can’t.” 

“I’ll… bear it in mind. Thanks,” he said, clearly forcing a smile. 

“Any time, love,” she replied, squeezing his hand gently.

Gwen was aware of her own feelings towards Jack. She would’ve had to be completely dense not to be. She also had the creeping sense that  _ maybe  _ they weren’t quite unrequited, but his relationship with Ianto was still important to her. 

Even if it’d all largely flown under the radar for the past few months, the kiss they’d shared after Abaddon had told her all she needed to know. There was no denying that she loved Jack, but a good part of that was about happiness, not just her own, but his too. It didn’t matter how she felt, because as him and Ianto had kissed, joy had practically radiated from them.  _ And then Jack ran off.  _ There was no way that wasn’t eating away at Ianto. 

“We’re both doing it,” he said, almost startling her. 

She turned. “Hmm?” 

Ianto smiled gently, and she was pleased to see that it reached his eyes, even if they sparkled a little more in the low lighting of the walkway than she would’ve liked.“We’re both bloody brooding.” 

“That bastard’s really rubbed off on-” She stopped herself, realising what she’d said a little too late. She half expected his face to fall, but he smiled ever so slightly, which was as good as a cackle with him when it came to jokes. That was one of the many things she found intriguing about Ianto. He seemed so calm and collected,which made it easy to assume he’d be chronically uptight, but he  _ really _ wasn’t. His sense of humour rivalled Jack’s sometimes. 

“Yup,” – he sighed, lapsing back into sombreness all too fast – “you know, the offer stands on my end too. You’ve been checking in with us, but that doesn’t mean  _ you _ don’t need to talk. You’re working twice as hard, and you’re going home half as much _.  _ There’s no way you aren’t finding things just a  _ little  _ difficult.” 

“It’s just…” she sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. It’d begun to cool in the frigid air of the walkway. “I hate the lies. Always have, really. That  _ thing _ I had last year, with Owen-” She glanced over to the medic, who was elbow-deep in Hoix guts. “I can hardly look at myself in the mirror any more.” 

“Gwen, you’ve stopped. You’re sorry,” – he looked at her, his expression not quite readable – “you did it, and there’s no changing that, but I know it’s behind you now.” 

“But it’s not just that. There’s so much I wish I could tell Rhys, so much I wish I could go back and fix ,and I  _ can’t _ . This job, it’s wrenching me away from him, but I can’t leave. Even if I said I would, I’d never follow through with it.” 

“Occupational hazard, that,” he remarked, and she knew he understood it better than she ever would. How Ianto could still stand to even set foot in the Hub was beyond her. 

“I know it’s hard to believe, especially given everything that’s happened the last few weeks, but you  _ are  _ allowed to switch off. This doesn’t have to be you twenty-four seven. During…” – he sighed, lowering his voice – “during  _ Lisa _ , before I went into my flat, I’d sit in my car – just sit there and breathe. It was like an in-between space, a chance to separate Ianto Jones, archivist and traitor extraordinaire, from just… Ianto. Didn’t always work, but it helped. It’s easy to lose that distinction between you here and you at home, but you  _ can’t _ . You saw what it did to Suzie. You can’t let yourself drift.” 

_ Don’t let it drift.  _ He sounded so much like Jack she wanted to cry. She shook her head. As much as sitting about sounded like a welcome break from the treadmill of shit the universe was throwing their way, she just didn’t have  _ time.  _ Not right now. One evening in had almost gotten Ianto killed, for God’s sake. 

“Ianto,” she said, “the Rift-”

“Is calming down,” he cut in, “if Tosh’s new algorithm is to be trusted, that is. Tonight, things should be back to normal levels.” He scoffed. “At least, as normal as anything can be ‘round here. If the forecast holds up, you can spend the whole night with Rhys.” 

“What about you?” she asked. 

He cocked his head. “What d’you mean?” 

“Well, it’s not like you’re gonna be on full duty any time soon with that leg. Are you gonna go home later?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” he said. “I don’t see any reason to stay.” 

And that  _ stung _ . Characteristically, Ianto was on guard, but Gwen could see right through it. Had it been three weeks ago, there would’ve been a freakishly charismatic and devastatingly attractive reason to stay, or one encased in steel and twisted into something barely human if you went back by months – loyalties that tied Ianto to the Hub more than the archives ever could. Of course, he’d never exactly been its prisoner. Gwen had read the report on the Saviour, condensed as it was. She knew Ianto had had something external then, but that was long gone, and now there was nothing for him on either side of the cog door. For that, she wanted to kill Jack Harkness herself. 

With a final, subtle nod, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone on the walkway with her mug of now-lukewarm coffee. She sighed and downed the rest of it. Tonight, she could go home and stay there. She could sleep the whole night with Rhys, and tomorrow the change would begin. The Rift had been working overtime to make their lives a misery, but for the first time since Jack had run off, things were looking better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GWEN AND IANTO ARE BESTIES AND I WILL DIE ON THAT HILL.
> 
> These two are my absolute favourites to write, and the general outline for this chapter was one of the ideas that got me writing this whole thing in the first place. Have a great Valentine's Day!


	4. Leftovers With a Side of Introspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally home, Gwen has some time to think.

When Gwen finally got back to her flat, she was greeted with a small note and some cling-filmed pizza. She plucked the note from the counter, pleased to at the very least see Rhys’ barely legible scrawl. 

“ _BOWLING WITH DAFF. PIZZA’S IN FRIDGE. HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD DAY! X_ ” it read.

Gwen lowered her head to the counter, resisting the urge to scream with frustration. She loved him, and it wasn’t fair. It was bad enough having to lie to him virtually every time he so much as asked how her day had been, but not seeing him was somehow even worse. Even if he acted like things were all fine and dandy, there was the occasional hint of jealousy or possessiveness that screamed otherwise, and it broke her heart. After all, it wasn't like Rhys was completely wrong to be feeling that way.

Finally standing up straight, she groaned. Self-pity was the absolute worst approach, and yet she kept catching herself red-handed. Ianto was right, as usual. What was done was _done_ , and now it was down to her to learn to live with that. There was no changing what’d happened, but it was well within her power to make things better.

Carefully replacing the note on the counter, she retrieved the food from the fridge. She still felt awful for leaving Rhys to eat alone, especially since she could tell the pizza hadn’t exactly been a cheap, shitty one, but duty (or rather, Ianto) had called. If she hadn’t been there, God only knows how things would’ve turned out. Regardless, Rhys’ face when he’d realised she had to go was still burnt into her mind’s eye. As she settled on the sofa with her dinner, she started to plan – just something little to make up for all the time they’d lost the last few weeks.

What did Rhys enjoy? What could she do that would make it up to him, or even begin to? She got as far as _stuff involving handcuffs_ when she realised that she should probably just go to bed. It was pretty hard to think clearly on a grand total of zero hours of sleep and five (admittedly amazing) cups of coffee. 

It was as she went to put her earrings away on top of the dresser that she noticed the open lid on her jewellery box. She could’ve sworn she’d closed it. Frowning, she snapped it shut. It was bad enough that Rhys always left the toilet seat up, and she dreaded to think how their flat would look if habits like _that_ started to spread to her. That was, if she was ever home long enough to do any damage of her own.

And she would be, Gwen recalled with a small smile. Even if Jack was still absent, and the team - her friends - were still hurting, the Rift was finally loosening its chokehold on their lives. Small as it was, it was a victory all the same.

Gwen fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, which was only to be expected.

She slept for a good hour or so before she woke up to the sound of profuse swearing. Welsh swearing. Bleary-eyed, she reached for the bedside lamp, hesitating for a moment before switching it on. “Rhys, what in God’s name-”

“It’s this fucking bed frame!” he hissed, clutching his foot in apparent agony. 

She groaned “ _You_ chose it.” 

“Ah, _God,”_ he gasped, hopping as he set something small and shiny down on the dresser, before falling backwards onto the bed.

"Rhys, this is the second time you’ve done this. You know you can turn the lights on, right?” 

“I know, but…” he trailed off, looking sheepish. 

“But _what?_ ” 

“Well, you’re barely ever home before me any more, and you know I’ve always hated waking you up.” 

She smiled gently. “Oh, you _idiot_. You know I’ll never complain about that. Not if it means I get to see your handsome face.” 

“Promises, promises,” he murmured. 

She sat up to swat at his arm. “Shut up and get in bed.” 

“Feeling bossy are we?” Rhys remarked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Mhmm. To be continued at a time that isn’t two in the morning?” 

“I’m holding you to it.” 

As he settled next to her under the duvet, she felt all the stress of the week drain from her. _This_ was where she belonged. Even if she couldn’t always tell him the truth; even if she still ached with guilt, this was home. This was who she was, and where she belonged, and as strange as it was, she found comfort in the fact that that was something she’d never felt when it was Owen’s arms around her, or in the moments she’d caught herself wishing it could be Jack’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented or just generally stayed along for the ride! This is my first multi-chapter work, and I've honestly loved writing it.  
> Until next time, have a good one! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to princessoftheworlds for being a fantastic beta. You're a bloody lifesaver.


End file.
